


Scenes from a Solstice

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Character Study, Children, Drama, F/M, Family, Holidays, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-14
Updated: 2007-03-14
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: CJ takes a trip and Danny has unexpected company





	Scenes from a Solstice

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Scenes from a Solstice**

CJ/Danny, Hoynes, Toby, Walken

Maybe PG for use of sexual imagery to describe a pyschological event

Spoilers: through end of series

Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul

Reviews, feedback and criticism always welcome

“All Through the Night” (“Ar Hyd y Nos”) traditional Welsh melody

\------------------------------------------------------

_December 21, 2008_

Danny let himself back into the house. It was a dreary day for southern California and he planned to be lazy for most of it. He had just come back from the Santa Monica general aviation airport; CJ was flying up to San Luis Obispo to meet with Franklin Hollis, Bonnie, Glenallen Walken, and some of the Hollis Foundation board. She would spend the night with Frank and Sarita and drive back tomorrow morning with the former president. When they discussed the trip, he had good-naturedly accepted her teasing (“I’ll be in a limo with three Secret Service agents, I’ll be perfectly safe, Danny!”) about her travel plans. She would show President Walken the offices she and Nancy used on the UCLA campus and the two of them would come to the house for lunch. Then he and CJ would talk with Walken about the Sharif story and what they did and did not do during the man’s three-day tenure in office. If everyone felt comfortable with the situation (and if everything had gone well up at Cal Poly), Glenallen Walken would be hired by the Hollis Foundation as Chief Fundraiser for “Road to a Better World”. It kind of sucked that the meeting had to tie up a Sunday, but with the holidays and other contingencies, this was the best timing for all concerned.

His instructions were relatively simple. CJ’s Prime Directive stated that he should avoid messing up the public rooms of the house if at all possible. Narcisia, the Bosnian woman who usually came in twice a month to help with the cleaning, had been there on Friday. This was fine with him; he stopped for doughnuts and coffee on the way back from the airport and bought enough doughnuts for breakfast tomorrow as well. Tomorrow morning, he’d have some of the instant hot chocolate mix. Dinner would be delivery. He could manage to throw away bags and boxes used in the family room and he would read the paper in the bedroom. NFL football and sleep would occupy most of his day. Tomorrow, he was to remove the sheet that CJ had put over the already set dining room table. At an appropriate time, she would call and he would start following her written timetable for fixing the meal. (Two fryers cooked the way Toby did, with lemon and rosemary, a salad with romaine, hearts of palm, asparagus, hearts of artichoke and avocado, some French bread.) When he asked why there were two chickens, she said that they would also be feeding the agents, or at least offering them food, that’s why the table was set for five.) Oh, and make sure that he wore a nice pair of chinos and a sweater. Her nesting instincts were in overdrive. Yes, he would have a hard time sleeping tonight without her in the bed, but he was just a little bit glad that he had some time to himself to veg out for a while.

He was still tired from Hank and Steve’s annual Christmas costume party last night and didn’t know how CJ was going to make it through the day. He should have phoned Sarita Hollis as soon as the private plane took off and mentioned it to her. CJ was probably already there by now and he didn't want her to think he was micro-managing her (at least not that much). The two of them, plus Frank and Diana Munoz went as the “four mud-grip tires” from the “Redneck Twelve Days of Christmas”. Diana was also pregnant (she was due about two weeks before CJ) and the two of them decided to use hula-hoops (two apiece) as frames for the papier-maché tires that the four of them would wear around their waists over black pants and T-shirts.

The phone rang; she was calling to let him know that she had landed, that the Hollis’ had been waiting at the airport and that they were about to pull into the driveway of the townhouse Frank and Sarita kept in San Luis Obispo.

“Be good. Don’t try to do too much. Make it an early night for yourself even if the rest of the group wants to party on,” he told her.

“Yes sir,” she laughed. “Love you."

“Love you back.”

He took his coffee and doughnuts to the bedroom and read the paper. By the time he was done, the early games from the East coast were well into the third quarter, but that was okay. He went into the family room, built a fire, and flipped between the games. About 3:30 PM, he called for the large pizza (bacon and extra cheese) that would be his lunch, dinner, and midnight snack. Right after he hung up, the phone rang, but when he answered, there were a few seconds of air, and then a dial tone. Must have been a wrong number. He got a beer from the kitchen and opened the bottle. The skies darkened and the lights of the Christmas tree glowed brighter in both glass windows. The doorbell rang and, grabbing a twenty from his wallet and opened the door to see, in addition to the delivery guy, former Vice-president John Hoynes.

A bit nonplussed, he gave the twenty to the guy, took the pizza and invited the man into his home.

“I’m not going to apologize for disturbing you, Danny, I needed to talk with you and I wasn’t sure you would see me if I tried to make plans in advance.”

At least the man was being honest with him. “CJ isn’t here right now – “.

“I know exactly where CJ is and what she’s doing.”

Okay, the man was coming right to the point. He led him down the glassed-in walkway from the entry hallway to the family room. Remembering the man’s admitted alcoholism, he said, “We’ve got Caffeine-free Diet Coke, Diet Ginger-ale and seltzer, Mr. Vice-president.”

“ Please; call me John. And a Coke would be fine; if it’s cold, don’t bother with a glass.”

Danny set down the pizza box and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a can of Coke and a can of seltzer for himself. He didn’t know if he should drink his beer in front of the other man. He started to get some plates out of the cabinet and then figured out that if Hoynes was willing to drink his Coke straight from the can, he was probably willing to eat pizza as men do and just grabbed the roll of paper towels from the hanger by the sink.

He handed the Coke to the other man, set down the towels by the pizza box, and reached for the seltzer can.

“Danny, I don’t have a problem with you drinking beer." Looking around him through the two sets of glass windows, those on the west opening to the stormy ocean, those on the east facing the inner courtyard, he added, “This place is amazing. You were certainly lucky to find it. I’m sure there are very few like it.”

Danny’s face glowed with pride. “Actually, it’s one of a kind, we think.” He got up, moved to a side credenza, and picked up a photo album. “This is what we had when we bought it, John.” He opened to a picture of a small “C”-shaped house. “The rest is what CJ saw and brought to fruition with the architect, the builder, and the landscaping team. I just signed where she told me to sign,” he added what was becoming his mantra when people talked to him about the house. He lowered the sound on the TV, opened the pizza box, and offered it to the other man, telling him about the toppings.

They each took a couple of bites, and then Hoynes told him, “She certainly is an amazing woman. Did you ever wonder why you had the luck to win her?”

“I don’t wonder; I just thank God every day for her.”

“As well you should. Back in February, at the thing at the Fairmont, I may have said something to upset her and I was wondering – “.

“She told me about your conversation; we discussed it. She was not upset. She was surprised because she never saw the possibility, but you did not upset her.”

“Did it upset you?”

“No. On an analytical level, I told her that she wouldn’t have been ready for you right out of school, that for it to work between the two of you, it would have had to have happened during the Administration, had you been single at the time, and, of course, without the events around Emily’s List.” The man looked up quickly. “You would have had the biggest fight of your life, Mr. Vice-president,” Danny added quietly.

This was getting too dicey; time for some subterfuge. “Excuse me.” Danny got up, went into the bedroom. He grabbed his cell from the dresser and went into the bathroom, closed the door, and punched “ICE1CJ”.

“Hey, there,” she answered.

“Sorry to bother you, sweetheart, but I need to tell you that John Hoynes is sitting in our family room eating my pizza. I think he wants to press me on why he is out of the running for the job.”

“Oh fu—“.

“Not in front of the Minnow,” he joked. “Just remember, you are concerned about poaching on Josh and Sam, and you want Margaret to be happy. I never said a thing to you. I’ll handle it from here. Love you.”

“Okay. Love you back.”

He flushed the commode, washed his hands, opened the bathroom door and returned to the family room.

He came back and they each picked up another slice of the pizza.

“I’m not here to beg for the job; I just want to make sure that what I said in San Francisco or what I did way back when is not causing a problem for her. Or for you."

“John, she feels she owes some loyalty to Josh and to Sam because they need you for Matt Santos; she feels that you are better for Margaret than Arnie Vinnick. I happen to agree with her, but she made up her mind herself.”

“I don’t deserve Margaret; I’m surprised that I have a fighting chance.”

“You do realize that if you mess this up with Margaret, you will have two presidents, the White House Chief of Staff and his deputy, several former presidential advisors, and the eternally unforgiving cohort of White House women, past and present, not to mention the ghost of Leo McGarry, all champing at the bit to wreak havoc on every aspect of your life?”

The other man nodded his head, then asked, “You had no input to her decision? You had no concerns? The fact that she and I once –“

Danny looked into John Hoynes' eyes with a gaze so piercing it could cut a diamond. “You would not risk it and it would never occur to me to doubt my wife’s fidelity. There are not, there have never been, any ghosts in my marriage bed, not you, not anyone else.”

John Hoynes flushed and looked away for a few seconds. “So my candidacy was never an issue with you? It caused no problems? You would have accepted me if she had chosen me?”

No one, especially this man, had any business knowing about five seconds of human frailty between CJ and him. Danny decided that it was okay for him to bend the truth a little.

“To be brutally honest,” he mentally crossed his fingers, “had it come to that, I would have pointed out to her that you are by nature a very ambitious man. I would have been concerned for her. She has put so much of herself into this project, taking it from a glimmer in Franklin Hollis’ mind to actuality. I would not want it pulled out from underneath her; I would not want her stabbed in the back. I am very protective of her. As I said earlier, I thank God everyday for her.”

“When she told you of our conversation last February, did she tell you that she said the very same thing about you?”

In spite of himself, a slow smile spread over Danny’s face. “She did leave out that one fact. And, again, in the end, if she wanted you, it was always her decision to make. Hey, this game looks like it’s getting good. Let’s turn up the sound. Can I get you another Coke?”

They watched the rest of the game, talked about general things of interest. Hoynes wasn’t sure, but he thought there was a little Lyman on the horizon. (“She has that glow and Josh looks as if he invented the remote control.”) He was totally in love with Margaret’s toddler, was so afraid of wrecking the situation, and took a guilty hope in the fact that Margaret wanted more children and he was younger than Vinnick, but he wasn’t counting on anything. Danny offered advice and he listened. They finished the pizza.

The game ended and Hoynes got up to leave. “When you see Glen Walken, give him my congratulations.”

They walked to the door. “That’s not a done deal. I’m concerned – we’re concerned,” he corrected himself, “about any fallout from my Sharif story. She may send back the decision to the Search Committee.”

“Thank you, and Merry Christmas, Danny.”

“Merry Christmas, John.”

Danny shut the door, exhaled sharply, cleaned up the family room, putting the bottles and cans in the recycle bin and the pizza box and paper towels in the trash outside. He wiped down the coffee table, put another log on the fire, shut off the television and sat in the dark by the light of the tree and the fire.

He felt sorry for John Hoynes. As Mariah had said, the man confused masculinity and maleness. He might never be able to be secure enough in the former to restrain the latter, but if he wanted any peace in his life, if he wanted Margaret, he damned well better work at it. Had he known Hoynes better, he should have suggested seeking professional help, but that would require friendship and they were only acquaintances.

To be brutally honest with himself, what he had told the former Vice-president was not the entire truth. While he had never feared the ghosts of the men with whom CJ had been physically intimate, for some time he did have feelings of anxiety concerning her emotional relationship with one Tobias Zachary Ziegler.

Toby came the closest to having the emotional relationship with her that Danny shared with her. If Jed Bartlet was the pseudo-father to whom she chose to give obedience and Leo McGarry was the martinet to whom she had to give submission, Toby Ziegler was often the pseudo-husband to whom she gave respect, to whom she looked for support, to whom she turned when she needed a sounding board. He knew from the way she acted at first about Santos’ offer that she had never made that final leap of faith, that final surrender of trust with Toby, but he also knew that she had come close to doing so. On that emotional wedding night in January when she came to him to tell him that she did not know how to have a successful relationship with him, she came to him with that psychological hymen intact; however, she and Toby had certainly mentally experienced “everything but”. He broke through that barrier that evening and made her psyche his, but he needed several months to erase the feelings of unease and resentment he held for her relationship with Toby; in contrast, on the night after Leo’s death, his resentment and unease about the other men who had known her body lasted less than a nanosecond.

It began to dissipate when he learned that she would not be asking Toby to walk her down the aisle at their wedding; he did not know if he could have dealt with the symbolism of Toby Ziegler giving him permission to marry CJ. It totally disappeared about three weeks after the wedding. The two of them were in New York, in Toby’s apartment, on their way back from Scotland, Ireland, and Dubai. She was sitting in an easy chair and he was sitting on the arm of the chair. Hearing about his concerns for her safety while she traveled, Toby made a disparaging snort; she calmly said that it pleased her to make her husband happy. When Toby tried to pursue the subject with her, she smiled and said, “Toby, it’s non-negotiable”, looked up at him, and kissed his hand. She turned back to Toby, “it’s what Danny wants.”

The clock chimed 6:00 PM; he looked outside at the total darkness.The Solstice had occurred this afternoon. Tomorrow would be the first full day of winter; tomorrow she would be home.

He wished they could cocoon themselves, hibernate for the next three months. He had visions of them with stores of food and firewood, other necessities, books, movies, games, not leaving the house until the equinox when day would once again conquer night. He could rub her neck, her back, her stomach, massage her feet. He could watch her increase with their child. She would be knitting something for the baby; he would be making a cradle. Earlier today, he laughed a bit and felt only tolerance for her nesting instincts; now he wanted to see her making a warm, safe, and pleasant home for the two of them and their baby. Earlier today, he was looking forward to his time of solitude; now he wanted her with him, near him, his arms around her.

It was impossible, of course. It was southern California, not northern Michigan. This cold, dreary weather would be gone by tomorrow or the next day. At most, they could keep a month’s supply of food at a time. Her pregnancy necessitated visits to Scott every three weeks and soon every two. He had contracted to teach two classes in Culver City starting in mid-January. But this year, he resolved that they would spend as much time as possible at home – no trips to the northern coast, to the East, to Ireland. He would talk with her about it tomorrow, convince her that it was the right thing to do at the right time. And sometime, it would be nice to have a true winter Christmas with her and their child. He remembered midnight Mass with snow on the grass (but not on the streets) and a light coat of ice glistening on the trees; weather cold enough that soda, beer and even some food would chill on the back porch (and having to make sure that Pistol didn’t get at the food).

The phone rang; it was her cell on the caller id.

She told him about the afternoon with Walken; he told her about his with Hoynes. Sarita was about to serve a simple Sunday supper of sloppy joes and french fries. The men were planning to watch hockey after the meal but she was planning an early night.

“Sleep well,” he told her. “I miss you. Hurry home to me.”

“You too. Me too. I will. Love you.”

“Love you back.”

The next day, everything went fine with the lunch. The five of them finished the chicken and the bread, most of the salad. The agents refused the sorbet and pizelles, and retired, two to the family room, one to stand outside the house. Glen and the two of them ate dessert; the men had coffee while she drank lemongrass tea.

The former president shyly (or as shy as a man of his presence could be) asked her if she was “with child.” They answered him honestly, told him that they had not yet made any general announcements and asked him to not mention it to anyone else.

CJ spoke first. “For this to work, we need to talk about several things. First, to be honest with you and with myself, when the committee first gave me your name, I was not sure if I would be able to set aside ‘President Walken’ and see you as an associate, not to mention someone reporting to me. I’ve come to grips with the idea, but I need to know how you feel about working for someone who, for three days, worked for you.”

“Being President is not something for which I ever aimed. I put my hat in the ring in 2006 because I was afraid of Butler and I honestly didn’t think that Arnie had a chance at the nomination. I was so relieved when he started winning primaries and I could drop out of the race. And those three days showed me what an awesome responsibility is encumbered on that office. I was dealing with members of my own party who wanted me to advance their agenda; I was dealing with all of you – the staff that did their jobs in spite of great personal connection with the Bartlets and with Zoey. At the time, I knew that I had the responsibility for the final decision, but that up to that point, we were colleagues. That is how I would view our relationship; in the end, the weight of decision falls upon you, but for the rest of the time, two people trying to improve the world. If you can accept me that way, I would be honored to work with you.”

“President Walken,” Danny leaned forward, “my only interest in this matter is my wife’s happiness. We’ve accepted the fact that some people will always have doubts about what went on between us during those White House years. For the most part, we don’t care. Our friends know the truth. In your case, we think it’s important that we make sure that you know exactly what happened vis à vis the Sharif incident and that you are comfortable with it. Any resentment or distrust will only cause problems between the two of you.” He then told the other man how he first came upon the story, how he researched it. She added the information that she and Leo convinced him to hold off on the story for three days in exchange for an exclusive on the Bahji sleepers.

“Then the FBI broke the story about the Bahji and you chose not to honor Leo’s deal with Danny,” CJ said. “But Leo and I had given our word; if it had been another reporter, I would have done the same thing all over again. I understood why your advisors wanted to control the situation, but I had my personal integrity, the integrity of Jed Bartlet’s administration foremost in my mind. So after I told Danny that there would be no comment from the White House, I told him to post the story immediately.”

“Those were three days that tested all our loyalties, to ourselves, to country, to party,” Walken mused. Then he looked directly at CJ. “But it was a point of honor? It had nothing to do with whatever conscious or subconscious thing the two of you had going on between you for all those years?”

Danny answered for the both of them. “Part of what attracted me to her was her sense of integrity and honor. We can’t separate who and what we are from what drew us to each other. But believe her when she says that she would have done it for the guy from the Times, from Newsweek, from Reuters.”

They talked some more. They showed him the rest of the house. He made the usual comments and Danny went through his usual speech about his wife’s vision. The sun was just starting to set as they walked with him to the limousine that would take him to the airport.

As soon as he closed the front door behind him, she grabbed hold of him and kissed him the way she kissed him those times in the press room. He kissed her back the way he kissed her that first time in the office. The brief exchange they shared earlier in the day had been nowhere near enough.

They were cleaning up, putting stuff in the dishwasher, debating about saving two cups of wilted salad (she said yes, he said no). There was an ambulance siren in the distance; it was getting closer. Suddenly, it was very loud and they could see flashing lights; the sirens stopped and they heard something large braking outside their house.

They ran outside. It was stopped across the street at the Wei’s. Hank and Steve were already there. Apparently, no one else on the block was at home.

Li had been chopping some vegetables and the knife slipped. The cut was deep, severed a tendon, knicked an artery. Yan had to go to the hospital with her husband.

“We’ll take Mei-Ling,” CJ took the four-month-old little girl from Yan’s arms, picked up the cradle carrier. Danny took the baby and the carrier from her. “Go get some diapers, some clothes,” he told her. Then to Yan, “Get in the ambulance. She’ll be fine.” Steve went to follow the ambulance to the hospital. Yan might need to have someone there for emotional support.

“Take the carriage, she can sleep in it,” Yan said as she ran out of the house.

By the time CJ returned from the baby’s room, Hank and Danny had filled a carryall bag with bottles from the refrigerator.

About a half-hour later, Danny walked into the kitchen. CJ was holding Mei-Ling with her left arm while she put a bottle in the simmering saucepan. He leaned against the doorjamb. “You look good like that,” he said.

She turned, smiled, and stifled a huge yawn.

“You’re beat,” he said. He came toward her, held out his arms. “I’ll do this; you go sleep for a bit.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“I do have two nieces; they survived.” He took the baby. “Come to Uncle Danny.” He reached over to CJ, kissed her hair. “Scoot,” he ordered.

When she woke up, it was totally dark. She could see the lights of the Christmas tree coming through the open bedroom door; she could hear Danny’s voice softly singing.

She got up, walked toward the family room. He was standing, slowly walking with the sniffling child, one hand under her butt, the other on her head. The words of the hauntingly beautiful Welsh Christmas lullaby reached her

_“Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night._  
Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night.  
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and vale in slumber sleeping,  
God, His loving vigil keeping, all through the night. 

_While the moon her watch is keeping, all through the night._  
While the weary world is sleeping, all through the night.  
Through your dreams you're swiftly stealing, visions of delight revealing,  
Christmas time is so appealing, all through the night. 

_You, my God, a Babe of wonder, all through the night._  
Dreams You dream can't break from thunder, all through the night.  
Children's dreams cannot be broken; life is but a lovely token,  
Christmas should be softly spoken all through the night.” 

 

Her tears came silently, but they came copiously. They dripped off her face and soaked her sweater.

She must have made some sound, because he turned around and saw her. Her tears glistened in the lights from the tree and he came to her, concern on his face.

“Jeannie?”

“It should be one of ours, Danny. You should be doing that with our boys.”

He put the baby in her carrier and pulled CJ to the couch, sat down, pulled her down beside him. He held her and quieted her tears. He whispered into her ear, “Next year, sweetheart. One more set of solstices and equinoxes.”

\------------------------------------------------------

“The Redneck Twelve Days of Christmas”

Attributed to Randy and the Rednecks

"On the nth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:

12 pack of Bud,

11 wrasslin' tickets,

A “tin” of Copenhagen,

9 years probation,

8 table dancers,

7 packs of Red Man,

6 cans of Spam,

5 flannel shirts,

4 mud-grip tires,

3 shot-gun shells,

2 hunting dogs,

and some parts to a Mustang GT."


End file.
